


Grey Eyes

by acupforslytherin



Series: A Song for You [1]
Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: Baking, Birthday, Draco's birthday fic, Ex-Auror Harry Potter, Fluff, Harry Potter Epilogue What Epilogue | EWE, Implied Past Suicidal Thought, M/M, Potions Master Draco Malfoy, Redeemed Draco Malfoy, Songfic, St Mungo's Hospital, Wedding, as an excuse for so much fluff, then more fluff, wedding vows
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-06-05
Updated: 2020-06-05
Packaged: 2021-03-03 21:33:57
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 5
Words: 8,666
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/24552436
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/acupforslytherin/pseuds/acupforslytherin
Summary: Five reasons why Harry knows that Draco loves him.
Relationships: Draco Malfoy/Harry Potter
Series: A Song for You [1]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1854553
Comments: 20
Kudos: 286





	1. Cause he told me so

**Author's Note:**

> Written for Draco's 40th birthday because our boy deserves all fluff and hugs in the world <3
> 
> Huge thanks to [Eros](https://angry-gay-readytofight.tumblr.com/), [Vanessa](https://maltters.tumblr.com/), and [Cherry](https://cherryslibrary.tumblr.com/) for helping me meticulously beta read this work. Without their constructive feedback and kind words, I probably wouldn't be confident enough to post this.
> 
> This fic is inspired by Brown Eyes by Destiny's Child ~~because I have an unhealthy obsession with Draco's grey eyes~~. The title for every chapter is taken from the lyrics. Enjoy!

“Shit.” Harry tried to duck behind his kitchen counter as red velvet batter in the baking pan exploded violently from his spell. It was too late though, the sticky substance had found a way to his face and most of his shirt a second faster.

He stood up to look at the mess he made in his kitchen. The explosion was massive, almost too massive to be coming from an average-sized baking pan. The batter was splattered everywhere. It reached the farthest corner of his kitchen, some even stuck on the ceiling.

_Okay, so magic was probably not a good idea_ , Harry thought in defeat.

To be fair, he would not be resorting to spelling his cake if not in pure desperation. He had been in his kitchen since midday, trying to bake a cake in a Muggle way. There had already been four failed cakes lying innocently on his counter, all of them in different shades of brown with the last one closer to black than anything else. 

Harry was sure he once saw Molly using magic to bake something. _There must be something I did wrong_ , he thought and then considered the state of his kitchen. _Obviously_.

_Come on, Potter, you defeated Voldemort. You surely can bake Draco’s favorite cake_. He moved again with new determination. The birthday boy would be here anytime and Harry would be damned if Draco arrived to find Harry had no present for him. He had been having a hard time deciding on what to give his boyfriend as the man seemingly had everything he might want. He ended up planning on baking a red velvet cake, Draco’s latest favorite dessert with a heavy consideration on his sweet tooth.

Harry, however, failed to consider the big possibility that he was unable to bake.

It was too late to change plans, he had to make this work no matter what. He took a recipe book near him—half of the opened page was drenched in red batter—and Scourgified it a few times to make the words on it readable. He scrutinized all the steps of making Easy Homemade Red Velvet Cake and attempted to find where he did wrong. Or where he could sneak a few spells to make the result at least resemble his now very low expectation.

He was still glaring angrily at the recipe book when a Floo sound came from the living room, followed by some rustling.

“Harry?”

_Oh, fuck_. Harry was too preoccupied with ruining his kitchen to notice it was already the time for Draco to come for dinner and his birthday celebration. Well, originally. No food was ready and there would only be a lot of explaining to be done if Draco saw this mess, and he would, because there was no way Harry could Vanish everything in time—

“I smell something burnt.” He heard Draco’s voice from the hallway. “Are you here?”

Draco stepped into the kitchen and promptly froze on the spot.

There was silence. Harry could see several different expressions fleeting on Draco’s face in the span of three solid seconds. The first was unmistakable shock. Next, brief confusion surfaced, laced with a tingle of concern—which was not unfounded, the state of his kitchen was very _concerning_. Then, he swept his eyes through the room and locked at Harry, standing dumbly in the middle of absolute mess. In an instant, the concern on his face rose significantly, escalating to panic.

He was suddenly in front of Harry, grabbing his arms. “What happened? Are you hurt?” His voice was high in panic.

It took Harry another moment why Draco came to that conclusion. _Oh_. The red velvet batter.

“I—I’m okay. This is actually just cake batter,” Harry said quietly as he scooped a little of that substance on his cheek with his finger.

There was another silence as Draco tried to digest the information.

“Are you… trying to bake?” he asked disbelievingly.

“Well, huge emphasis on trying, apparently,” Harry replied sheepishly. He raised his hand to scratch the back of his head as a habit, and found that it was also covered in red velvet batter. He grimaced and withdrew his hand behind his back. “Happy birthday?”

Draco kept staring at him, completely floored, as if he talked in Parseltongue. After what felt like a minute of baffled silence, Draco abruptly huffed a laugh. The laugh gradually grew louder until the blond wizard was cackling from his belly.

“Merlin, Harry,” he tried to speak in the middle of his roaring laughter. “You almost gave me a heart attack, you look like you just murdered someone. What on earth are you thinking?”

Harry’s cheeks flamed in embarrassment. Thinking about it, his kitchen did look like a crime scene with the red batter splattered all over the place. “Hey, stop laughing, I didn’t know baking would be this hard, okay?” he muttered defensively.

“You’re rubbish at Potions, what makes you think you can bake?” Draco’s laugh had died down a bit, but his grey eyes were still glinting in disbelieving mirth.

“It’s not my fault that it’s impossible to find a birthday present for you.” Harry crossed his arms, feigning indignation while his cheeks remained hot. “You have everything—and anything you need, you can buy yourself. I’ve been so stressed out for days thinking of what I could give you and I only could think of your new obsession with fancy cakes, but of course you can buy your cakes if you want—hell, you can even bake your own cakes, Draco—so I wondered how to make this special and…” He trailed, realizing how dumb he probably sounded now.

Draco had stopped laughing completely, his pointy face softened by Harry’s rambling. “Well, I can’t buy this kind of mess anywhere, and likely won’t be able to create it myself even if I try my hardest,” he said with a playful grin, his eyes warm. He huffed another low laugh. “Oh, Harry, I love you so much.”

All the defensiveness in him evaporated as the words stunned him. “What?”

“What _what_?” Draco cocked his head and regarded Harry intently, the smile on his lips soft. “You don’t know?”

Harry, in fact, did not know. Draco never said those three words before, but he looked at him as if the fact had always been there and Harry should have known sooner. It was probable, with the way Draco gazed into his eyes and smiled at the very thought of him.

“And you are right, I do have everything I want, it seems,” Draco continued, his meaningful gaze holding Harry’s emerald eyes. 

He reached out to caress his long fingers on Harry’s cheek and leaned forward to kiss him, covered in batter and all. Harry, still dazed from the revelation, kissed him back breathlessly.

Harry did not know before, but he did now. And he relished the way that knowledge made him the happiest in a very long time, even more than when he had discovered he loved Draco.


	2. Cause his feelings show

Draco was a man of big gestures. Everyone who knew him certainly must have a word or two to comment on his dramatic ways to express himself. To make people notice his strong presence. Harry remembered Hogwarts, his total dedication to do the stupid shenanigans just to capture other students’ attention, particularly Harry's. 

After the War, it seemed like Draco’s self-preservation steered him towards a new tactic on how to gain a better kind of spotlight, the more respectable one. So, he disappeared without a trace for a few years, until everybody started to think he was dead. Then suddenly reappeared into society out of thin air as a Potion Master with five patents under his name, and a lab ready to operate. He was the headlines for a full week because of that.

In other words, Draco Malfoy is the epitome of ‘go big or go home’. If it is not grand, most likely Draco wouldn't want anything to do it. He thrived in attention and he was getting very good at gaining it.

But if it came to affection, Draco was anything but grand. At the beginning of their relationship, Harry anticipated him to be an over-the-top boyfriend. He expected Draco to take him to a ridiculously fancy restaurant as their first date and to be as public as possible about it.

No. Draco actually took him to a tiny cafe to have some tea and delicious cakes. They talked for hours about nothing and Harry did not even realise it was a date until Draco walked him back to his flat and asked if he could kiss him. He was even more baffled when the man left him with just one simple peck on his cheek. The intimacy had Harry blushing for days every time it crossed his mind.

After that, their dynamics barely changed. They talked as they always did, with the usual banters and occasional insults. They acted around each other as they always did except for a few kisses here and there, and even those were mostly done in private. Neither of them were actually trying to hide their relationship but it took people around them—and the Prophet—long enough to find out. It was nothing new for Harry to be quiet about his romantic relationships, but no one ever thought someone as open and dramatic as Draco would ever be silent about anything, including relationships. _Especially_ something as serious as relationships.

It also took Harry some time to understand Draco’s love language. He was not vocal about his feelings, apart from disagreements, and tended to be closed off towards Harry. He later found out it had to do with his rigid pureblood upbringing in which showing something, especially as vulnerable as love, was frowned upon. So, without vocal expression and grand gestures, Harry learned to note the small details when Draco’s feelings would show.

It was shown in his way of knowing the right way Harry took his tea, his way of tolerating Harry’s tendency to keep his environment messy, his way of complaining but still indulging Harry in his movie marathon night, his way of letting Harry curl in his lap and holding him whenever he was sad or upset—no matter how tired he himself was that day. It was clear from the way Draco always knew when Harry needed him.

Mostly, the pure, unfiltered intimacy of his actions was his affection, and Harry loved it.

Like tonight. They both attended a Ministry gala, and, as most people knew, Harry hated this kind of formal event so much. Everyone would somehow think it was completely acceptable to harass him with their opinion on him. Whether it was false admiration of his heroic deeds, or blatant disappointment when they realised Harry didn’t live up to their impossibly high expectations. He reached the point where he couldn't even tell which he hated more.

Even worse, this gala would be Harry’s first public appearance after his retirement from his Auror career. He could imagine the number of people wanting to give Harry their personal input on his choice and he was not excited about it. He really didn’t want to go and Draco understood—he always did. He suggested that he go alone but Harry disliked the idea even more. With still many wizards and witches holding unnecessary grudges with him, Harry knew Draco enjoyed formal functions as much as he did, if not less. But, he had promised to meet someone at this gala and he insisted on coming. While being perfectly aware that his boyfriend could stand for himself, Harry still did not fancy letting Draco do it all alone. They would both be less unhappy with the other at their side.

So, almost halfway through the miserable party, Harry found himself in the company of Mr. Grinspoon, a fifty-something year old wizard with a stout body and a constant frown on his unhappy little face. He tried to stick with Draco throughout the night, taking turns rescuing each other from any unpleasant conversation, but he had lost his boyfriend ten minutes ago when a foreign wizard dragged him to talk about Potions. Not long after that, Mr. Grinspoon approached him and Harry cursed himself for not thinking of bringing his Invisibility Cloak, or following Draco to avoid other interaction.

“Nice to see you, Auror Potter! Oh, wait, but you are not an Auror anymore, are you, if I heard the news correctly? I think it was a complete shame, Mr. Potter,” he said as the opening of his long monologue on how wrong Harry’s choice of leaving the Auror force was and all other things that went wrong in the Savior’s life.

Grinspoon’s speech went on and on and Harry considered a few ways to get away before he hexed the man’s balls off. Just as Harry thought the man was done spouting bullshit, Grinspoon started bringing his “unfortunate childhood” into his lecture and Harry was one breath away from losing his cool when someone appeared beside him.

Out of nowhere, Draco had materialized next to him, and pressed right to his side with an arm around Harry’s waist in a somewhat protective gesture. He shot his most charming smile at Grinspoon, who had paused his ranting when Draco appeared, and his grey eyes glinted dangerously.

“Good evening, sir. I didn’t want to interrupt but it seems like you have been having a pleasant conversation with my partner, I couldn’t help but to join in,” Draco said smoothly, the smile still in place, thinly veiling his hatred for Mr. Grinspoon.

“Oh, Mr. Malfoy,” Grinspoon said with a controlled surprise in his voice at Draco’s sudden appearance. A sneer instantly formed in his face, as he didn't even try to hide his contempt at the man—similar to many other people in the Wizarding World who still thought it was okay to openly hate on Draco for his past. Harry didn’t like it one bit as he felt anger bubble up into the pit of his stomach. 

Grinspoon, as dense as he was, was unable to detect the change in the atmosphere and continued with his insensitive and offensive monologue on how Harry was supposed to live his life. “I was just talking with Harry about his wrong decision of leaving his Auror career. It’s a shame, you know? Especially with what was laid ahead of him.” The stout man shook his head and threw a snarky glance at Draco as he spoke. “Sometimes I wonder if Harry has been getting bad influence from people around him. Like, I don’t know, maybe associating himself with the wrong kind of person?”

If the anger was simmering in him before, now fury was blazing through his veins at how this stranger was blatantly implying that Draco was a bad influence on Harry. _That_ definitely crossed a line. He opened his mouth, ready to defend his boyfriend when he felt Draco’s palm move to his back, grounding him.

Harry saw in the corner of his eyes how Draco’s eyebrow twitched and something flashed in his eyes. Not anger. No, something softer, less dangerous but still promising something.

“Well, that’s really unfortunate that you think that way, sir,” Draco drawled. “You seem to offer great insight, and I'm sure Harry appreciates your concern, and will spend much time thinking over your words.”

Harry did not appreciate it at all, and would never think about it again, much less take it into any sort of consideration. He wondered how Draco could say all those things with barely a hint of sarcasm in his tone. Maybe some people were just born a natural at lying, but Draco had lots of practice in the past.

“I believe Harry would love to hear more about your—ah, perspectives, but I’m afraid I need to take Harry from you now. You see, everyone wants a piece of their savior, it wouldn’t be fair to them if they couldn't get a chance to talk to him tonight because one old nobody was hogging him.” Draco said, his tone impossibly polite and yet still sneering at the rude man.

Harry caught a tiny flick of Draco’s wrist before he moved to usher them both away from Grinspoon. “If you excuse us.” Draco’s voice was very mannerly and posh. “And oh, sir? I think you've got something in your teeth.”

After securing a safe distance between them, Harry couldn’t help but giggle at his boyfriend’s antics. “Merlin, Draco, did you really need to spell his teeth brown?”

Draco’s lips twitched at the corner but his perfect composure remained. “Why, Harry, of course I had to,” he said. “And just so you know, it’s not brown. It’s very dark green, the colour of wet moss.” Draco couldn’t contain a small chuckle as he corrected him, dropping his posh mask.

Harry laughed harder at that. “I don’t know if I should regret teaching you wandless magic or not.”

“Well, not everyone gets the opportunity to use their ability to save the world. I need to find a creative way to utilize my skills. It’s not like he didn’t deserve it either.”

Draco’s love language was turning Harry’s night from horrible to spectacular by just being there and _being himself_. And Harry wouldn't have it any other way.


	3. Cause it’s obvious

“Does it hurt here?” the female Healer with fading green hair asked him.

“No,” Harry answered and immediately winced as she poked his ribcage.

“Mr. Potter, it’ll be easier for me to run a proper diagnosis and treatment if you cooperate and truthfully tell me where it hurts for you,” she said with the most unimpressed face Harry's ever seen. He winced again at that.

“Okay, it might hurt a little. But it wasn’t that bad.”

“Mate, you fell—no, jumped—from the third floor of a building. It’d be concerning if it’s not that bad,” Ron, hovering over his hospital bedside, said flatly.

Harry huffed petulantly. “I landed on a tree, it really wasn’t that bad.”

“Your immobile legs said otherwise.” Hermione threw him the same unimpressed look as the one his Healer gave. “That’s very reckless, Harry, even for you.”

“What does it mean?” Harry said, offended. “And it was a calculated risk, okay? As I said, I landed on a tree.”

“If you had time to calculate the risk of your jump, you would have Apparated out of there,” she retorted. “The building wasn’t warded.”

Harry didn’t have a comeback for that because, for one, they were right, Harry was very reckless this time. The thing was, the whole thing had been supremely stupid that Harry was too embarrassed to even talk about it. But of course, his friends wouldn’t let him go that easily.

“It won't happen again, okay? I’ll be careful next time,” he sighed.

“You better be,” Hermione snapped. “By the way, Draco is on his way here.”

“What?!” Harry immediately paled, knowing what was coming for him. “You told him? Why would you do that?!”

“Because he deserves to know about your utter stupidity and _you_ deserve to deal with him knowing,” she said, smirking smugly, imagining Harry getting properly punished for stupid actions. That hadn’t happened since Hogwarts, and even then it was scarce.

“You can’t—Hermione, he’s in South Korea it will—”

“HARRY JAMES POTTER!” A voice boomed from St. Mungo’s corridor and right then, Harry knew that he was thoroughly and completely fucked, even more than before.

“Well, apparently he’s here, now.” Ron grinned a bit apologetically, but his blue eyes glinted with obvious amusement at his best mates predicament.

Harry sighed again, long and suffering. He probably did deserve his boyfriend’s wrath, after all. He braced for what was coming.

After what sounded like a chaotic ruckus and some muffled voices of Mediwizards saying “Mr. Malfoy, please keep your voice down”, the door to Harry’s room was slammed open. In the doorway, stood Draco Malfoy looking terribly dishevelled. His pale face was flushed red, likely from rushing here as his breathing was visibly uneven. His chest, clad in a wrinkled dress shirt, was still falling and rising rapidly.

What caught Harry’s attention was, undeniably, a pair of grey eyes flashing in fury.

“You fucking rash halfwit,” Draco hissed as he marched to his bed. “Are you that eager to fucking die?”

Harry, practically unable to move from his sitting position, recoiled slightly at the outburst. Draco didn’t throw crude words lightly. This was his way to indicate how badly Harry had fucked up this time.

“I’m asking you, Potter, are you trying to kill yourself?” Draco demanded angrily through gritted teeth.

“No,” Harry mumbled.

“Oh, really?” Draco’s voice dropped dangerously. “Now, would you like to kindly explain to me why on Salazar’s arse you, as Hermione had so generously informed me, leaped out of the window from the third floor?”

Harry turned to frown at Hermione with a dejected and betrayed look. His friends really had put him through this. Whether he was deserving or not, he would hold this against them for a while.

“You’re not giving me that face, Potter! Look at me!” Draco moved to grab his arm, his touch surprisingly gentle, a great contrast from his hysterically angry shrieks. “Let’s pretend I don’t know you were planning to keep this from me, I’m angry enough as it is.”

Slowly, he turned to face his furious boyfriend as Hermione and Ron ushered a confused Healer out of his room, following her and quietly closing the door behind their backs. Great, now they were leaving Harry to deal with this alone. Draco wouldn’t hold back if no one was around.

And it was very much deserved.

“It was an accident, Draco,” he mumbled again, dropping his head.

“Oh, an accident, huh? I’d very much like to be enlightened on how you ended up in that accident, oh dear great Invincible Savior,” he drawled dramatically, fuming with anger at his stupid, reckless boyfriend.

Harry sighed and ran his palm on his face, averting his eyes from Draco. “I was… kind of baited?”

“And how exactly were you baited?”

“An older lady asked me for help. She came to our home this morning… she said her cat ran away to that building and, you know, she wanted me to fetch the cat for her because, you know, the building…” Harry trailed off as he recalled the ridiculous series of events that was his day. He was disappointed in himself that he had fallen for such an easy trap, and prepared for the mouthful from Draco.

Draco squeezed his eyes shut and took a deep inhale of breath. He looked like he was about to explode and Harry couldn’t blame him, he had been colossally stupid today. 

When Draco spoke again, and his voice shook a little, “And you, Harry James Potter, the Savior of the Wizarding World, a former Auror with almost seven years of experience, fell into a trap as _obvious and cliche_ as an old lady looking for a cat?”

Well, yes. “It’s hard to be suspicious of an old lady,” he blurted quietly before he could think it through. 

It was apparently a wrong thing to say. Draco became even angrier. “That’s exactly why it is a painfully obvious trap, you fucking brainless scarhead! Did they not teach you in Auror traning about people using Polyjuice Potion and pretending to be someone else to trick fools like you?!” He took more steadying breaths. “Hermione said there was a bomb about to go off in said building. Now, pray tell, why did you decide to jump out of the window instead of Apparating like a normal wizard in dire situations? They clearly said the building wasn’t even warded.”

Harry really didn’t have an answer for that. “Well, I… panicked? I-I don’t know, I just didn’t think.”

Draco squeezed his eyes again, tempering his outburst. “You panicked. Of course. Of course, Potter, your natural survival instinct will choose the most dangerous and grandiose escape from death. How could I forget, you refuse to think about anything until it’s already happened.”

“I’m sorry.”

Draco didn’t reply. He slowly tried to control his breath again, inhaling deeply and exhaling noisily through his mouth. A few moments later, he dropped his hand that was gripping on Harry’s upper arm and took a step back. He looked up to meet Harry’s eyes. Those grey eyes were no longer flashing with anger, they only seemed frustrated, with a tiny bit of relief in them. 

But mostly they reflected deep exhaustion, and Harry was feeling awfully guilty. How could he do something so colossally stupid?

“Sometimes I wonder what it is that makes you attract danger to yourself like no one else. I thought it’d be over after you stopped being an Auror, but who am I kidding? You’re Harry fucking Potter, after all,” he let out a high pitched laugh, almost hysterical. With a shake of his head, Draco calmed down again. “You’ll no doubt be the death of me, Potter, Merlin only knows.”

Harry’s heart constricted at the sight of his boyfriend so tired and deflated. And all because of his utter stupidity and lack of thinking. He didn’t know what got into him today. Maybe it was the fact that lately, life had been quite calm and uneventful, he jumped at an opportunity for danger. It was easy to forget that there was the small group of people that for some unknown reasons wanted to harm him, silently lurking in society. Most of them were not even Voldemort’s supporters anymore, they were the relatives or friends of the Death Eaters Harry had hunted down during his Auror years.

They were hurt, so they tried to hurt and blame someone else in return. Harry could almost sympathize with them, having witnessed so many personal deaths himself. Still, it was no excuse to be reckless, endangering his own life and making people he cared about worry over him. The guilt ate him up from the inside out as he looked at his now pacing boyfriend.

He pulled Draco close by his pale, slender hand. “I’m so sorry, Draco. I didn’t mean to make you worry,” he said earnestly. “It won’t happen again, okay? I’ll be really, _really_ careful from now on. Constant vigilance, I promise.”

Draco sighed, but he let Harry pull him into his arms and gently slumped over his still stiff shoulder. “I don’t know why I should trust you this time.” He muttered, drained. “For a moment I thought I lost you.” His voice was barely above a whisper, but being so close together, Harry heard it clearly.

He tightened his arms around his boyfriend. His heart hammered into his ribcage as the guilt immediately tripled. “But I’m here now, right?”

“Because of some kind of miracle,” he huffed against his neck. “Please, don’t ever do that to me again, Harry. I was so worried.”

Despite everything, Harry couldn’t help a grin appearing on his face. “Back to Harry again, am I?”

“Shut up, dimwit,” Draco replied, but he raised his own arms to circle around Harry’s torso, returning the hug.

Harry hummed and rested his cheek on the blond head. “Did you really come all the way back from South Korea just to yell at me?”

“Well, _obviously_ ,” he said, his tone indignant. “What else was I supposed to do when Hermione told me you’re actively trying to end your life in my absence?”

“That’s a bit dramatic.”

“Jumping from the third floor is dramatic, safely Portkeying across the globe is not.”

“How did you manage to get a Portkey with such short notice, anyway?”

Harry felt Draco’s breath against his neck, soft and calming. “I used some intense persuasion to get my way.”

“By intense persuasion, you mean you terrified some poor Korean wizard in charge of the Portkeys into giving you one, thoroughly scaring them in the process?”

“It was actually a poor Korean witch.”

Harry laughed in disbelief. “Of course. You’re aware that you might also be banned from St. Mungo forever, right? Those poor Mediwizards. How many people have you traumatized just to be here?”

Draco looked up to meet his eyes. “Forget those people! I lost my opportunity to get my hands on the rarest ginger that could be very crucial for my new Potions breakthrough!” He said with a frown. “Oh, the things I do for you!”

With a fond smile and full heart, Harry leaned down to plant a kiss on those pouting lips. In spite of his disgruntled tirade, Draco sighed into the kiss and moved his arms up to circle around Harry’s neck. “Your idiocy almost gave you a well-deserved death, but you better know I’m glad you’re somehow still alive, Potter.” He mumbled in between kisses.

Harry grinned against his lips. Draco didn’t always let his feelings be so clearly on display, but at times like this, his love was obvious. Harry couldn’t contain his own feelings toward the man and just decided to just deepen the kiss.


	4. Cause it’s me he trusts

Harry woke up to an empty bed. He first reached out to the other side of his mattress, looking for a warm body to wrap in his arms, but all he found was cold bedsheets. Blearily, he blinked a couple of times to adjust with the darkness of his room. He wandlessly cast a Tempus and frowned. The spell told him it was three in the morning.

It was not the first time he lost his boyfriend in the dead of the night, but recently it had been less and less frequent. When they just started seeing each other and tentatively sleeping together, Draco left their bed almost every other night. Harry initially thought that the man was just not comfortable sharing a bed with him yet, but eventually, he found out that was not really the case.

Draco, like Harry and most of the people who took part in the War, was still haunted by nightmares. But he didn’t make any noise, unlike Harry, who usually woke up screaming. He would just sit up with a slight tremble and quietly get up to leave the room, trying to calm himself without waking Harry up. Harry probably would never know this if not for that one time he drank too much coffee and had to lie awake next to Draco all night.

Harry didn’t like the idea that Draco thought waking him up at night would be a bother, especially when he himself often did it. He told his boyfriend to just shake him awake the next time a nightmare disturbed his sleep, but of course, the stubborn man never did.

If there was anything Draco Malfoy hated the most, it was showing vulnerability. And both of them understood perfectly that the moment after a haunting nightmare was the most vulnerable they could be. Still, Harry wished Draco would trust him to share that moment with.

Feeling much more awake, Harry got up from his bed, instantly missing the warmth of his soft duvet. He didn’t need to guess where to search for his boyfriend. This happened often enough that he could tell where Draco would be right now.

Just as expected, Harry found Draco in their living room, sitting on the thick rug in front of the gently flickering fire. The man had his back to him and Harry stared. He had a feeling Draco already noticed his presence as he always did, somehow.

Sure enough, his low voice was soon heard, “I didn’t mean to wake you up.”

“You didn’t, but your absence did. The bed was cold without you,” Harry said as he walked to him and lowered himself to sit by his side. “Nightmare?” he asked.

“Not really,” he answered quietly and then seemed to think about it again. “Maybe, I don’t know.”

“Wanna talk about it?”

“I don’t think you want to know about it.”

“But I do.”

Draco turned his head to offer him a thin smile. “Maybe I don’t think I want you to know, then.”

“Because you think I won’t like it?”

“You’ll be upset.”

“Draco—” he paused, not knowing what to say for a moment. Slowly, carefully, he continued, “We always talk to each other about our nightmares and you know it really helps. Draco, we—we both lived through the War, we had roles in it, we were pawns…” he stopped to squeeze his eyes. “You know we… understand each other, right? At least to some extent. You can always tell me everything, no matter how upsetting it is.”

The blond watched him for a few seconds, his gaze calculating. Harry stared back at his grey eyes, willing to show his sincerity while absently admiring how they gleamed and reflected the soft light from the fire.

“It’s not about the War, though,” he said eventually. “Well, not really.” A little frown appeared between his brows. “Okay, it kind of was about the War. Almost everything was about the War back then, huh?” He let out a humourless, tired chuckle.

Harry scooted closer to press tightly against his body and wrap his arm around his shoulders, silently saying _ I am listening _ and encouraging him to go on. Draco leaned into the touch with a sigh.

They stayed like that, snuggled up in front of the fireplace, for a few more minutes, neither of them talking. The longer the silence engulfed them, the more Harry thought Draco would just not talk at all. When he was certain the talk was not going to happen and about to suggest going back to their bed, Draco said quietly, “it was about the Sixth year.” He stopped, uncertain, then whispered, “Sectumsempra.”

_ Oh _ .

Summoning his strength, Harry willed himself not to tense. They talked about it, of course, but it was still a hard topic for them. Especially for Harry. Right now, he was dying to apologise as the guilt coursed through him. The image of Draco lying on the bathroom floor, in a pool of his own blood, broke into his mind. Draco was almost killed.  _ He  _ almost killed Draco

He tried his hardest not to show his remorse. Draco hated it when he blamed himself for the nasty scars crossing Draco’s otherwise smooth torso.  _ Stop looking at them like that, it was a self-defence. I tried to Crucio you _ , he had said when Harry saw them for the first time, during the foreplay of their first attempt of sex. The sex, of course, didn’t happen that night as he freaked out too much and completely ruined the mood.

The next attempt after that, Draco cast Disillusionment Charm to hide the scars. From that moment, Harry understood that blaming himself for what he did in the past burdened Draco more than it did him. The least he could do for him was making it easier by letting go of their complicated past.

Still, talking about it brought a little pang of guilt and pain to him. But he steeled himself this time. It’s not about him. If Draco needed to talk about it, then he would listen.

Slowly, he continued, “in my dream, Severus didn’t come. The curse killed me.”

Harry gulped. He promised Draco not to be upset over this. “So it was a nightmare after all?” he asked quietly.

Draco pulled back from his embrace to look at his eyes. “That’s the problem. It wasn’t a nightmare. In that dream, I died from the curse and it was… it was so peaceful. It’s just—” he sighed and slumped a little. “I used to have that dream all the time during the War. Especially when the Da—Voldemort was in the manor and it was…” he sucked in a deep breath. “It was a mess. Giant, frightening mess. In my dream, I wasn’t a part of it anymore. It’s peaceful, and safe, and… nice. I remember the dread I felt waking up from that dream, having to face the bleak reality. Somehow it became my favorite dream during the War.”

Tentatively, he leaned forward to put his forehead on Harry’s shoulder, his body shivered just slightly. On an instinct more than anything, Harry quickly circled his arms around him again. “The dream still came back a few years after the War. Things were much less frightening, but it was still… hard. Sometimes harder than others. That’s maybe why my subconscious longed for—for an easier option, I guess.”

“But you pushed through.” Harry couldn’t help the feverish tone in his voice. He tightened his embrace. Draco never told him about it, never really talked about the hardships he went through during the War or during his absence after that. “You made it.”

“I did, yeah,” Draco whispered against his collarbone. “And that’s why it felt so… disconcerting now, that dream suddenly came back. It’s unsettling, feeling the tranquillity of death so vividly. What’s more unsettling, though, I could still feel the longing when I woke up.” Slowly, his hands clutched at the sides of Harry’s t-shirt. Harry could feel they trembled faintly. “I don’t want death anymore. I’m alive and I am  _ happy _ . I have everything I need and want. I love what I have here.”

_ I love you _ .

The unspoken words simply couldn’t be any clearer as Draco gripped him tighter.

Overwhelmed by emotions, Harry dragged the lean body of his boyfriend to his own, hugging him as close as possible. For a second, he stayed there, just to breathe in Draco’s scent, relishing the fact that Draco was  _ alive  _ and in his arms. He let himself feel thankful, reminding himself of this blessing he unconsciously took for granted. “It’s okay,” he whispered next to his ear then shifted his head slightly to land a sweet, lingering kiss on his temple. “And thank you. Thank you for holding on.” He landed more kisses on his forehead, moving further to reach his other temple. “Thank you for telling me this.”

Draco lowered his head to nuzzle at his neck, returning his kisses with a soft press of lips there. “Thank you for listening to me.”

“Anytime, love,” he said earnestly. “Did you—have you told anyone about it?”

“No,” Draco replied. “There are only two persons that I fully, unconditionally trust in my life. My mother and you. And I never really talked about this kind of thing with her.”

“Thank you for trusting me.”

Draco pushed him back a little and disentangled himself from Harry’s limbs. Before Harry could reach out and protest, the blond already moved and positioned himself in his lap, his hands firm on both sides of Harry’s face. “Thank you for letting me trust you.”

He gently bent down to kiss him passionately, communicating the untold feelings between them that words simply wouldn’t do any justice. Harry kissed him back with just as much fervour.

For all Harry knew, trust was the strongest, clearest love language Draco had ever shown him.


	5. When he looks at me, his grey eyes tell his soul

“Ron, mate, I feel like puking,” Harry whined. “Or fainting, I honestly can’t tell anymore.”

The red-head in question looked up from where he was sitting on a couch in Harry’s changing room, munching on a cookie. “I wouldn’t suggest that. You know Parkinson will kill you if you make even a tiny wrinkle on that stupidly expensive suit,” he said. “I don’t want to think what the devil will do if you cover it with your vomit.”

Harry dropped to his chair dramatically. “But!”

“What’s the big deal? You’re just gonna walk down the aisle, say your vow, and then the ceremony is basically over. You’ll be ready to be off Britain with the ferret face for the rest of your life. Or at least for as long as your honeymoon lasts,” Ron grinned and wiggled his eyebrows. “A full month across Europe, Harry! That’s just so very Malfoy of him.”

“You missed the point, Ron!” he moaned. “What if I somehow ruin it? What if I trip on the aisle? What if I actually puke when I’m supposed to say my vow? What if I puke _all over him_? Oh my God, Ron, could Draco file a divorce right after we’re officially married? And this suit is too tight, what if I hyperventilate and faint—”

Harry was not nearly finished with his restless rant when the door to his changing room was barged open, showing Molly Weasley in a beautiful emerald green dress. She scanned Harry’s slumping figure and rushed to pull him into a standing position.

“Harry, my dear!” Molly exclaimed, her plump cheeks flush with excitement as she examined him thoroughly. “Look at you, such a handsome young man! Oh, Draco is so lucky to have you.” Her tone drifted to dreamy at the end.

Suddenly having Molly in the room raised Harry’s anxiety level up to several degrees. It meant it’s almost time to go. ”Er—thanks, Molly. You’re very gorgeous as well,” he said faintly.

“Oh, thank you, dear! Miss Parkinson picked the dress, you know? Really brilliant, that young lady, she said this emerald colour will bring out the colour of your eyes.” Molly twirled a little to show off her simple cut, but very flattering dress. “She dressed Narcissa in light blue and that matches Draco’s navy suit and, oh, it looks very lovely on them, Harry!”

Molly went on talking about how the decision against giving Draco a black suit was the best as he would look too monochrome considering his complexion, but Harry couldn’t really concentrate on her speech about Pansy’s expertise in styling as the thought of Draco dressing up, preparing for _their wedding_ , made him feel even more nervous. He silently cursed Narcissa who adamantly denied them sharing one changing room. It would be less nerve-wracking to have Draco with him right now in person.

 _You couldn’t have suggested anything more sacrilegious_ , Harry recalled the women's words, her usually calm voice turned indignant.

Narcissa was unhappy enough that they refused to do the pureblood wedding rituals. Surprisingly, it was Draco who was more strongly against the idea. He firmly stated he wanted to make the ceremony as simple as possible, saying the entire marriage was just an excuse to go on an elaborately planned long vacation in Europe anyway. 

While the vacation plan was partly true—he saw the ridiculously long itinerary he made that promised neither of them would ever be bored in that one month—Harry knew that Draco understood his reluctance in doing pureblood rituals and his extreme discomfort in being the center of attention. He even restrained Pansy from organizing the most extravagant wedding party ever held in the entire Wizarding World for them and persuaded her to make it modest and intimate instead.

He knew Draco secretly liked his pureblood traditions. He also liked having grand parties with his friends and family. But for Harry, he compromised. And Harry couldn’t be more grateful.

So instead, they chose the simplest Muggle wedding ceremony and modified it a little. Their family would enter the ceremony room, then Narcissa would walk Draco down the aisle to where he would wait for Harry to make his entrance with Molly. The officiant would open the ceremony and they’d go straight to the vow exchange after that without readings of any kind.

Simple enough. Harry certainly could do this. If Draco was willing to go extra miles to ensure their special day would be comfortable for him, Harry could do his part without messing it up.

A couple minutes later, Hermione popped up to announce the start of the ceremony and enthusiastically dragged Ron out, her pastel dress flowing in her chirpy steps. 

She stopped at the door to throw a wide grin to Harry. “Draco’s so stunning, Harry, make sure not to fall down swooning over him!” Hermione jokingly teased and left.

Harry groaned, the nervousness bubbling up in his stomach at the thought.

“Are you ready, dear?” Molly asked, offering her arm.

He thought about their small but cosy wedding venue, picturing it getting filled with people. It didn’t even matter that he knew every single one of them, the problem was that they all would have their focus on him. A suppressed shudder went through his spine.

“No,” he muttered meekly. “I think I’ll actually fall.”

“Oh, nonsense, Harry! Of course you won’t!”

Well, Molly was wrong.

Little did Hermione know, her teasing became a jinx because Harry did fall over right at the start of the aisle, as soon as his eyes landed on the figure waiting for him on the other end. He tripped and fell face first from the sight of Draco, his soon-to-be-husband, looking extremely breathtaking in his fitting navy suit, his hair—now almost shoulder-length—was styled elegantly back with just the slightest waves framing his face.

The sight literally knocked the breath out of him, sending him right to the ground with a loud thump, only narrowly avoiding taking Molly down with him.

They really should have shared a changing room just so Harry could mentally prepare himself.

The guests gasped at the humiliating accident before going silent. Harry, still a heap of limbs on the floor, was mortified beyond belief. His mind instinctively considered just Disapparating right then and there. Or maybe just Obliviating the entire room and dragging Draco to escape out of the country with him, preferably forever.

The silence stretched for approximately two seconds until a clear string of laughter broke it. He looked up to see Draco walking towards him, his beautiful face still contorted from his laugh. His white-blond hair waving gracefully as he shook his head in disbelief and pure amusement.

He kneeled in front of Harry and hauled him up back to his feet, his lean body showing off the unexpected strength. He put a steadying hand on his arm. “You really made me go down on one knee twice just to marry you, huh? You’re playing very hard to get, Harry,” he said mirthfully, the edges of his eyes crinkling.

“Uh.” Harry was never famous for his eloquence, and the mortifying fall earlier didn’t help his case.

Draco turned to Molly while keeping his hand on Harry's arm. “Thank you so much, Molly, but maybe I should take over from here?” he said politely with a small smile. “I think I can catch him if he falls again.”

Molly, still partly shocked from the ungraceful fall, watched him holding Harry securely, her mouth agape. The expression in her face quickly changed to that of a happy and proud mother in a second. She moved to wrap both of them in a bone-crushing hug.

“I’m so happy for you, boys,” she whispered vehemently before letting go and walking to where Arthur was standing.

Harry turned to face Draco who was smiling softly at him.

The man bent his head slightly to murmur close to his face. “The officiant is on that side of the room. Do you think you can walk all the way there or do I need to call him here?” he asked, his tone only half joking.

He stared straight to his eyes, the grey eyes meeting green. Suddenly, Harry felt much calmer, as though the world disappeared, leaving just the two of them in the moment. Those grey eyes, as they always did, anchored him to the warm feeling of serenity, of safety, of _love_.

 _It’s okay_. his mind slowed down. _It’s always okay with Draco_.

He gripped the long, pale hand. “Let’s go,” he said breathlessly.

They walked to the end of the aisle hand in hand, eyes never leaving the other’s. It was admittedly a little awkward to hold eye contact while walking together, but that was the only thing grounding Harry to the moment, to the man next to him. He refused to look anywhere else and Draco obliged with his kind smile.

The officiant started the ceremony by thanking all guests for attending and making a speech about the sacred bond that was a marriage, but Harry just naturally tuned him out. He had his focus fully on the stunning man in front of him, holding his gaze.

Inevitably, he missed his cue to say his wedding vow. Draco had to nudge him lightly with a low snicker, eyes still glinted with amusement.

Pulled back to the present, Harry thought he should take his handwritten vow that he wrote the night before in his breast pocket, but in doing so, he had to let go of Draco’s hands and the idea didn’t appeal to him in the slightest. So he just didn’t.

“Draco Lucius Malfoy,” he said slowly, his voice a little choked up. He cleared his throat. “The 11 year old me would never believe I’d one day stand in front of you reciting a wedding vow. And to be fair, the 11 year old you wouldn’t, too. The brat would probably punch anyone who suggests he would marry the Boy Who Lived.” A low rumble of laughter was heard from the audience but he didn’t pay it any attention. His eyes were fully on Draco who was grinning at his words. Harry continued on. “But the 11 year old us didn’t understand much. We didn’t understand how to grow, how to live for ourselves just yet. We lived the way that was expected of us. I… I can’t put into words how grateful I am every day that we did grow past it. That we got a chance to find each other again. That we held on until this moment.” His voice broke at the end. “Took us long enough but here we are. I want us to keep growing together, getting older, being better and wiser. We’ll fall every once in a while, like I did so embarrassingly before, but we’ll help each other up again, like you did. We’ll make mistakes and we’ll fix them. We’ll compromise. We’ll learn to love the best and the worst of each other.” He stopped to take a deep breath. “That’s… that’s my promise to you.”

Draco tightened the grip in his hands as his face broke into the most brilliant smile Harry ever saw. The grey eyes gleamed in raw emotions. Happiness, contentment, pride.

 _Love_.

“Harry James Potter.” His voice was clear and sure. “People say that I’m not easy to love, but luckily you’re the expert of doing the impossible.” He paused to chuckle to himself. “I also used to think that I’d never fall in love, but of course you, Potter, would be the one who eagerly proved me wrong.” His feign annoyance in his voice was so theatrical and so _Malfoy_ that another row of laughter erupted from the guests. “But falling for each other we did, because what are we if not a pair of rebels? We were done living for other people. We had enough of that. Now is time for us. Together. For as long as we’ll have each other.” He stared intensely into Harry’s eyes, baring his soul. “We both have the craziest, messiest lives anyone could ever imagine, and it’s likely won’t be any easier from here. It’s you and me after all.” He grinned slightly. “But we have each other now, and I vow to walk with you through our imperfect lives, today, tomorrow, and until we can’t walk any further.”

As the vow was delivered, it became harder and harder for Harry to see as his eyes were slowly brimmed with unshed tears. He blinked them away, desperate to have his gaze on the man he promised the rest of his life with.

And there they were, the pair of majestic grey eyes staring at him with so much clarity. So many unheard, private promises he reserved exclusively for Harry. So much trust and _love_.

No vow could convince him better than those grey eyes that forever was indeed ahead of them.

**Author's Note:**

> Find me on [Tumblr](https://acupforslytherin.tumblr.com/) :)


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